Church,and then an old friend comes over for lunch. It’s strange how we change from our childhood states. We used to be the pervy kids,deliberately misconstruing everything our teachers said,giggling obviously behind our books. I’m still pervy,but he became principled. I was supposed to be the principled one! It was weird. Blast from the past with an indication of the future. He was the only boy I ever fought over. (refer to the Tales from Childhood post) And now that’s ancient history. Am I aging?
So the kids came over on the weekend. Now,I can tolerate the lil tykes for a couple of hours,but an entire weekend? I had to leave,and fast. Especially after the 6 year old tells me she has a phone. To do what with,I inquire politely. To call my mom,and my dad,and my friends…oh,your friends have phones? She replies in the affirmative. I shake my head,bemused. I think I got my first phone-yaani bought specifically for me,not my dad’s old one or summat-when I was 17. It was a Nokia1100. I loved it with a passion that was indescribable. It served me well,through 3 boyfriends and the last 2 years of high school. She’s 6 years old. Am I aging?
Then the older one starts gushing over how much she loves Facebook,and how Twitter is so confusing. I smile and nod,not relating at all. She finds her old BF(best friend) online,and among a series of exclamations,they reconnect. I pray she never gets the hang of Twitter,which I hope remains the exclusive domain of the relatively techsavvy with a taste for anonymity. Damnit,I’m aging.
I flee from the digz early Sunday morning to go for brunch at a friend’s spectacular house in Rongai. Rongai si Westi. You need a freaking visa to get there. And there was a motorbike ride involved,which I figure will be 5 minutes,right? Nope. It was awful. I kept thinking about all the people I knew who had died on motorcycles. I kept thinking about how I’d literally paid 150 for my death. It was milima na mabonde stories. My legs weren’t steady until 20 minutes after I got off. Never again.
Chess Sunday with the usual suspects…Kenya Film Commission were showing a film on…didn’t catch the title,but it was meant to be a parody of the Esther Arunga scandal. While I appreciate a good parody,I don’t think this was one…thought the turban on Ian Mbugua was a bit much,but then again,I’m probably slightly biased. shrug
I get home and start sniffling. Damnit. The young one’s given me her flu. Hence me being in bed for the past 2 days. Now I need to get up and figure out whether I’ll make it for band today,seeing as UON are striking… sigh Aging,I tell you. Aging.